I’ve probably been sober and drug-free now about four years. Used to count the days but, hoping I would fail, but now it’s
kind of irrelevant. I was lucky enough to make it. So many years of suffering. It
hurts to think about it, but I didn’t I didn’t just stop I closed that chapter
in my book. I was scared and running all the time looking for that next high to
just escape, just a minute that’s all you want to do is just forget. It’s just
all-consuming. I felt bad every day. What would have
made it almost impossible not to look for that next escape. It’s like they just
keep pulling me in. I had no idea what to do about it. Just wanted to feel good
again and.. and that was my way of doing it through the substances.
Hate is strong word but I.. I’m not gonna lie I maybe hated myself for what I
was doing. I was scared of myself and paranoid about every single thing. There
was no way out for me, at least that’s… that’s what I thought everyday. What am I
gonna do? Was I really destined to live this kind of life? If I spoke to
fifteen-year-old me I would say… I would say, what you’re doing wrong… completely messed up and it’s running your life. What are you actually doing? It’s a good
thing I got help I would probably be dead.